


Role of a Lifetime

by charvill1981



Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, F/M, Post-Series, Pre-IWTB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charvill1981/pseuds/charvill1981
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder finds a woman he believes to be Scully, 5 years after her disappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I was going through the "My Documents" folder on my C-Drive and I noticed there was a folder labeled "Fic" that I TOTALLY didn't remember ever creating....but here was one of the stories I started in September of 2007.....Remember this was about two months before we found out there was going to be another movie, let alone a TV revival series! HOW CRAZY!!!! So, it's not finished, but I think it has AU potential so I am going to wait for feedback before committing more of my time to attempt to finish it.

EDMONTON, ALBERTA

November 28, 2007

7:39pm

 

Panting from his run in the cold of yet another brisk, Canadian fall evening, he hurried to unlock the door to his apartment. The ringing sounded more and more urgent as he fought with the cheaply designed lock, pulling the door handle to him in an effort to maneuver it just right—and he was in. 

“Hello?” he said breathlessly, amazed that the person hadn’t hung up before he got to it.

“We have a ‘code red.’”

He felt his knees give out, reaching behind him for the sturdiness of the wooden chair to fall upon. The sound of plastic cracking on hardwood cut through the stillness of his dark surroundings. A stinging sensation overtook his eyes, and he tried to blink it away, the salt of his tears mixing with that of the dried sweat from his recent physical exertion. 

“Are you still there? Hello? HELLO?”

The desperate plea, from the forgotten device, broke through his sudden fog and he picked it up off the floor. “I-I’m…” But, the words weren’t coming. What does someone say when their dream finally comes true?

“Listen, I have some information I think you’ll need.”

He nodded, oblivious to the fact that the man on the other end of the conversation couldn’t see the action.

“Royal Jubilee Hospital. Victoria, British Columbia.” His hands sought out the lamp, which he switched on, reaching furiously for pen and paper. 

“Got it. Okay?” he asked, urging his long-time confidant for more. But, all he got was silence.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

The sound of a throat being cleared sent chills down his back. “IS SHE ALIVE?”

“Y-yes, yes. She’s alive.”

His lungs felt like they would burst from the rush of air that filled them in his relief. Alive. She was alive. So then--? “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well, she, uh…She’s a little out of it. Not exactly herself. But it’s been years. Maybe seeing you would…” The rest of the man’s explanation fell upon deaf ears as he put two and two together.

Amnesia. God, please, no. 

“Will you be there when I arrive?”

“No, I don’t think that would be the smartest thing.”

“Yeah, okay. I will contact you after my visit.”

“Okay. I, uh, just want you to be ready…for when you see her. She’s in the trauma ward. Jane Doh.” The man paused, making sure he understood that last part. But, he knew all too well the implications. “I don’t want to say anything more than that.” 

Were those tears in his friend’s voice? He couldn’t be sure. 

“I understand. I will contact you after I’ve seen her.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. As he reached for the mouse to book the next available flight to Vancouver, he noticed his hands were trembling.

One thought kept repeating itself in his head. What kind of condition must she be in to bring an ex-Marine to tears?

 

 

TRAUMA CARE UNIT

ROYAL JUBILEE HOSPITAL

VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA

Twelve Hours Later

 

 

“I’m looking for a Jane Doh that was admitted here recently,” he said, trying to maintain composure while being so close to the end of a five year search. The first flight out wasn’t until after midnight. And, then there had been a layover. The rental car company apparently served customers slower in the early morning hours, so he broke nearly every land speed record to get to the hospital as fast as he had.

The short, heavyset nurse in flower-pattern scrubs looked through her charts for what seemed like an hour before raising her eyebrows. “Oh, yes, we did have a Jane Doh brought in!” she exclaimed, as if she hadn’t believed the man knew what he was asking about. 

“Where is she?” he asked again, not caring about the curious stares he was getting from the other nurses and patrons in the open foyer.

“Sir, please—“

He lowered his voice and grabbed her hand, trying to convey the depth of his emotions at that moment through his deep, hazel eyes. “I need to see her. Please. I just want to find my wife.”

“Your wife?” she gasped. “I-I’m terribly sorry. Let me find her doctor and he can take you to see her. From looking at her chart, and your relationship with the patient, I don’t think it would be wise for you to see her alone.”

He nodded in acquiescence, hoping that playing nice would allow him extra privileges later. Nurse Odgers, as her nametag had read, disappeared down the corridor and behind the double doors.

Looking around at the bland, colorless surroundings, he plopped down in one the hard, beige leather chairs that were bound together in groups of 3. Had it really been 10 years since he had sat in a hospital like this waiting for another verdict on her life? His shoulders suddenly felt very heavy and he hunched forward, elbows propped on knees, head in hands.

“Sir?”

He jumped slightly, eyes wide, at the feel of a gentle hand on his back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the tall, elderly man in the standard issue, white lab coat apologized. “The nurse informed me that you believe you can identify our Jane Doh?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “A friend of mine called me last night and said that my wife might have been found.”

The doctor took in his appearance warily. He was in sweats and tennis shoes that had definitely seen better days. His long, dark hair was unkempt and, though clean-shaven, it was obvious he was in need of a shower. “Do you have any identification?”

He nodded and pulled out his wallet, showing him the license: Fox William Mulder. “Please, Doctor, uh…?”

“Francis,” he answered, extending his hand.

“Dr. Francis,” he began, shaking it firmly. “Can you please tell me where I can find her?”

He could hear the desperation in the strange man’s voice, the earnest plea. This man was not a threat to the small woman who had been brought in under strange circumstances. That much he was sure of.

“Right this way, Mr. Mulder.”

 

 

They approached the door to her room, and the doctor put a warm, bony hand on Mulder’s arm to prevent him from going further. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her? Since she went missing?”

He looked into the man’s faded blue eyes and saw pity and something akin to fear there. “It’s been…five…” The word caught in his sand-paper throat and he had to swallow. “Five years.”

Doctor Francis’ eyes widened in shock. “That’s quite a long time, Mr. Mulder. You are aware that…well, how should I put this? The reason she is a Jane Doh is because we haven’t been able to identify her based on who she believes herself to be.”

Mulder flinched and nodded, already having come to that conclusion on his own, but not wanting to believe it was the truth. “Who…,” again he had to clear his throat. “Who does she think she is?”

“I could tell you, but I think she’ll have more answers for you.” He moved out of the way, as if to give Mulder better access to go inside, but grabbed his arm at the last second. “I’ve worked with many amnesia patients before, but...”

“Yes?”

“I have never had a patient who thought they were someone else. She’s not schizophrenic, I can assure you. We’ve run test after test since she showed up here yesterday morning.”

He nodded quickly, hoping that the man would get the hint that he couldn’t take this, but it didn’t work.

“If you can give a positive ID on her, we will be releasing her as fast as we can push the paperwork through.”

The doctor got the reaction he was looking for, and knew he had the man’s undivided attention. “She has absolutely no trauma to the head. Nor, any other injuries that we can find.”

He removed his hand from Mulder’s arm, and watched as the weary man turned the handle and walked through the door. Hearing a gasp, he lowered his head, moved back down the hallway, and sent up a silent prayer for the couple. 

 

 

Looking at the small figure lying asleep under the thin hospital blankets, he tried to soak in every detail…but he couldn’t get past her hair. It was long, wavy…and blonde. He pulled up a chair to the side of her bed, staring down at the light, golden locks that were splayed across the pillow. For a second he thought maybe this was a trick. A sick, cruel joke. This couldn’t possibly be her. But, as his hands came out tentatively to stroke the hair back from her forehead, he caught sight of her nose. The angular nose that sloped exquisitely down her face to…those lips. Perfect, heart-shaped, and plump. Scully’s lips. 

He found himself being drawn down to them and as he pressed his against hers, his hands caressing her cheeks, a warmth he hadn’t felt in over half a decade flooded through him. There was only one thing that could have pulled him back from her at that moment, a fluttering of eyelashes. 

Peering into her big, aqua-colored eyes as they searched his face inquisitively, he couldn’t help but smile. This was definitely his—

“Jayson?”

And, suddenly, his world fell apart.

 

 

His stomach did a hundred flip-flops and he struggled to keep the morning snack, which he’d had on the plane ride, down.

“Jayson, are you alright?” she asked, concern etched across her painfully familiar features. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” She watched as beads of sweat built on his forehead and his skin went from olive to ghostly white.

“W-what did you call me?”

Her brow furrowed. “Jayson.”

“You think my name is Jayson?”

She laughed. He had dreamed of hearing that sound for years, but this was turning into a nightmare. Her laughter died down as she saw the pain in his eyes. “You are Jayson, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, staring at her, watching the confusion build, tears threatening at the surface. “Oh, God, not again,” she cried, her hands coming up to cover her face. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Scu—,” he started, her head shooting back up at the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry. I guess I--.”

“Wait, what?”

Mulder just looked at her, unsure of the question.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Scully?”

Her eyes narrowed, and he felt like he had been melted down into a puddle on the chair. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asked between clenched teeth.

“A joke?”

“Yes, a fucking horrible, lame joke! You and Stone orchestrated this didn’t you? Thought it’d be real fucking funny. And what the hell was that kiss about?”

Stone? What the hell was going on here? “Scully, I swear--.”

“Don’t you dare call me that again! It’s not funny, Jayson. I’m in a hospital for Christsake! Is that part of it, too?” She scrambled to get out of bed, but he was too fast for her, pinning her back to the mattress with two hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were locked on his and he could see the nervousness there.

“Please,” he whispered. “You have to calm down.” He felt her stop struggling against him, and he sat back down. “What is going on here?”

She searched his eyes, waiting for him to crack and tell her the truth. That this was all some prank. But, he never did. “Stone came to me last night,” she sighed.

He had a sudden urge to kill this person. “Stone?”

Nodding, she continued, “He asked me if I could remember where I’d been before arriving here.”

“And do you?”

“Of course!” she said, resentfully.

His jaw went slack, and he urged her on.

“I had been on my way from my vacation home to the store to pick up some things I’d forgotten to pack.”

“You have a vacation home here?”

“You know I do,” she answered conspiratorially, her blue eyes flashing. When his expression remained blank, she decided to keep going. “I was about three blocks from J&H when a black sedan T-boned me in the intersection. Then, I woke up here.”

He watched her; still unsure of what to say next, when she suddenly looked away, bewilderment crossing her face. 

“What is it?”

“It’s just…well, it’s something that I should have thought of before this. I guess it was just too much for my mind to deal with at the time.” 

She glanced up at him again. “If that wreck really happened the way I remember it, I should be seriously hurt…” Her eyes froze in terror. “Oh, my God!”

“What? What is it?” He said standing, watching as tears welled in her eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m dead! Oh, God, I’m dead, aren’t I?” She had him by the shoulders now, shaking him in a vice-like grip.

“What? No. NO! You are definitely not dead.” Her hands relaxed enough that he could shake loose. He cupped her face gently, but she pulled back like his touch was fire.

“Don’t.”

“I-I’m sorry. I won’t touch you anymore.”

“Thank you.”

He tried to hide the hurt on his face, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t look him in the eye again for hours.

 

 

It had been rough. She kept claiming that her name was Kate Robertson. A famous television and movie actress. That in and of itself had been tough, but then she claimed she had a family. Children.

“You say you have two kids?” he remembered asking in his best detective voice, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him.

“Yes! You know this already! You know who I fucking am! Why aren’t they here?”

“They?” he said calmly, trying to reach back in his memory to find his detective mode. It had been years since he’d questioned anyone. But, this woman—his Scully—needed him now, and he wasn’t going to let his own personal drama screw this up.

“Yes, Jayson. They. Todd. My kids. My parents. W-why…” she began sobbing at this point. “Why are *you* here…and they’re not? Why haven’t they been looking for me? I have a one-year-old son! I just want to hold my son and see my daughter!” She was absolutely hysterical, and he empathized with her. 

He knew exactly what it was like to wake up and find your whole world gone.

 

 

LETHBRIDGE, ALBERTA

June 28, 2002

11:07am

 

They walked out of the tiny courtroom, hand-in-hand, stupid grins plastered across their face. “So, I guess I can’t call you Scully anymore, huh?” he laughed, rubbing the diamond band on her left hand between his fingers.

She squinted up at him in the bright morning sun, her blue eyes sparkling. “You do realize we are married under fake names, Mister, uh…Diggler. God, those guys had an evil sense of humor.”

He looked down for a second, remembering the first time Frohike had shown him the fake ID’s he and the guys had made for him and Scully after they got back from Antarctica. After Mulder had switched with Byers, walking out of the hospital with a gunshot wound to the temple, they decided to make them ID’s for at least one country per continent. At first, he thought it was a gag gift or something, but apparently the guys knew more than they had let on. 

Scully’s Canadian ID papers and license had read “Shelly Marie Tipton.” Simple enough, he thought. Until he pulled out his own: “Richard William Diggler.” Dick Diggler. He missed them every day.

They had a small house waiting for them in Calgary, just a couple of hours north. Skinner had sent pictures and instructions that everything had already been arranged using the money they had moved from Mulder’s old accounts. All they had to do was move in. 

He was broken out of his thoughts by the feel of lips pressing against his palm. 

“Hey,” she said softly. “Where’d you go?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the guys.”

She nodded, and then she got a mischievous look on her face. “You know, they would kick your ass for mourning them on your honeymoon.”

“True,” he chuckled, finding himself amazed at the woman in front of him. “Just wait until you see the hotel I picked out for us!”

“As long as it doesn’t have the words ‘motor court’ or ‘motor lodge’ in it, I can deal.”

“Then the Hotel S&M should work out just fine,” he deadpanned.

Her head fell back slightly as she laughed. “Keep that up, Mulder, and I’ll hurt you like that beast-woman.”

He leered down at her. “That’s what I was hoping for.”

 

 

The next morning, he woke up feeling around the bed for the warm body he had grown accustomed to sleeping beside. “Good morning, Mrs. Mulder.”

But, her side of the bed was ice cold, as if she hadn’t been there in hours. He shot out of bed, not caring that he didn’t have on a stitch of clothing. He grabbed the alarm clock. 11:45 Am. He never slept this late, and his head felt like a sledgehammer had been taken to it. 

Searching frantically through the large hotel suite, he found nothing. All of her clothes, purse, phone, wallet…her ring. Vanished, like she had never been there. Someone had drugged them and taken Scully.

He threw the alarm clock against the wall as he screamed in rage. His body slumped to the floor in utter defeat, and all he could think of as the room began to spin was that she was gone. Scully was gone. 

And he had no way to find her.

 

 

 

She was close to losing it. Her whole existence, as she knew it, seemed to have been a lie.

They had been searching, fruitlessly, for all the people she said she knew. None of their phone numbers worked, and all of the people at their workplaces had never heard of them. They could find no record of a wreck having happened where she said it had, nor was there a vacation home at the address she gave. The street didn’t even exist. Her homes in Arizona, California, Michigan, London, and Vancouver were not able to be found.

One of the first things he had wanted to know was why she thought that he and Skinner were two men named Jayson Lundberg and Stone Richards. 

He could still see her sitting in the hospital bed, her blonde hair pulled back loosely in a ponytail as she stared out the window away from him. “Because,” she sighed. “I’ve known you guys for fifteen years.” 

When he stayed silent, she turned to look at him. The dark shadow that had come when she called him Jayson for the first time was still present. It scared her. “We worked together for nine years. On ‘The X-Files’.”

“You know about the X-Files?” he gasped, reaching instinctively for her hand before pulling back, remembering that he had agreed not to touch her.

She searched his eyes suspiciously, some part of her still hoping that this was all a joke. “Yes, it was one of the most popular TV shows in history.”

“A television show?” he laughed, his eyes wet with an emotion she knew was anything but happiness.

“It made our careers, Jayson. You played Fox Mulder, and--.”

“You were Scully,” he finished, disgust lacing his words.

“And, what you are trying to tell me is that I really am Scully, right?”

“We have the fingerprints, medical records, birth certificates, marriage—.”

“What?” she interrupted, her eyes wide. “Marriage what? Scully was married?”

Mulder studied her for a second, trying to decide the best thing to say. Instead, he simply reached inside his wallet. He pulled out a piece of paper that was worn down from being looked at for hours every night since her disappearance.

She accepted it with trembling hands and read it softly to herself. He watched her brows furrow. 

“Shelly and Richard were the aliases the guys chose for our Canadian ID’s. We had to use them after I broke out of prison.” He then handed her the license he had kept with him. 

“I-I don’t believe this,” she stammered, as a picture of her younger self stared back at her. “Mulder and Scully…married?” That’s when the laughter started. At first, it was just giggling – something so out-of-character when he first heard it come out of her but that had now become normal – but then it became maniacal to the point where she was holding her sides in pain. It ended in tears. 

“But….my kids. How could that have been fake? I miss them so much…” She shook her head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. He wanted so badly just to hold her. “This is absolutely impossible. How…how can this be happening?”

“I wish I knew. Listen, the doctors want to release you, but I know you don’t—.”

“Have anywhere to go?” she finished for him, in a voice that sounded distant. “Yeah, I really don’t…I-I don’t even know where to start.”

“I think I might.” He gazed at her and, just as he’d prayed, she returned it. “But, you’ve got to trust me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> see part 1

EDMONTON, ALBERTA

December 1, 2007

8:47pm

 

He walked into his meager apartment carrying a pizza box and a 6-pack of Moosehead Lights. As he made his way into the kitchen, he saw that she was still sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, looking at papers that were strewn out in front of her.

“Mulder?” she called, and it sent chills down his spine. He had waited five years to hear that word come from her lips, and, upon seeing her at the hospital, thought he might never get that experience again. Until last night, that is.

“Hey, Sc—Kate, I got some dinner for us,” he announced over his shoulder. “It’s the same thing we had yesterday for lunch, but I didn’t know what you would be—hey,” he welcomed as she joined him at the counter.

“Hey.” She leaned over the box, opening the lid and inhaling the scent of flour, cheese, and grease deeply. “You know what I like,” she purred, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I try,” he chuckled. “So, uh,” he started, motioning with his head towards the living room, “D’you find anything interesting?”

“What’s not interesting? I mean, I know everything about this—,” she stopped, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “About Scully. I was her for nine years…but, not really. It’s hard to explain.”

Mulder smirked and pushed a paper plate, loaded down with two slices, into her hand. “I’ve got time.”

 

 

“Okay, I’ve been looking at all these papers and photos you’ve kept,” she said, folding her slice in half to make it easier to eat as the cheese drifted off the end. “It’s kind of surreal. All I’ve know of this woman is 40 minutes of her life, once a week, for an average of 20 weeks a year, over a period of nine years.”

He nodded, twisting the top off their beers and handing her one.

“I mean, as an actress, you study the character, and fill in the emotional gaps.” Mulder looked at her inquisitively. “Uh, how do I put this?” She looked through the mess on the coffee table until she found it. Kate held up the photo of Emily. “This girl. She was…Scully’s daughter, right?”

Again, he nodded. 

“Well, I can remember using my personal experience to imagine how she must have felt when she got the DNA test results back. I had a daughter who was almost the same age at the time, and if she had…God, I’m sorry,” she gasped as he paled.

“N-no, it’s okay,” he choked, rubbing her arm gently in an effort to coax her into continuing. “Please. I want to understand.”

She fixed her eyes on his, trying to decide if it was truly okay to go on. “The scene where I told my mother that I couldn’t have children…” she paused, to make sure he was still alright. “They never showed Scully at the doctor’s office finding that out, so I had to imagine what that must have been like. And, then, having to partake in family get-togethers where she had to be around others who were pregnant and living a ‘normal’ life...” 

He flinched, and she apologized again. “It’s okay. Normalcy was just one thing we never really found. Well…”

She sensed his hesitation, and she squeezed his hand. “Except for those two days.”

Mulder sucked in his lower lip, biting down hard in an effort to keep the tears from escaping. He coughed, but it came out more like a sob.

She reached for the remote and hit the Power button, the sound of canned laughter filling the room. “We can talk later, Mulder. For now, let’s watch a little Must-See TV and get a little drunk.”

He chuckled, surrendering to her request as they clinked their bottles together in a toast. 

“Cheers to that.”

 

 

24 Hours Earlier

 

“But, I’m not her!” They faced off in his living room, having arrived at his home only ten minutes prior. She grabbed her hair like she was going to pull it out, completely frustrated by his actions. “If I was, then why wouldn’t I remember?”

“Because I think that whoever took you from me--.” She shot him a look of annoyance, but he ignored it. “Made you forget. They gave you these ‘memories,’ you say you have, of another life...another reality.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” It was his turn to get indignant. “If it is so impossible, then why doesn’t anyone exist from your reality?”

“But…” She sat down on the worn, black leather couch, so similar to one she remembered from their old set. “You…and Stone. You guys are both here.” Her thin, tired fingers rubbed wearily at her temples. “So, doesn’t that mean my family could be out there, too? Maybe I just haven’t--.” 

He slid onto the couch beside her and spoke in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “I think that They made you remember us to add to your confusion.”

When she didn’t respond, he pushed forward. “The doctors said they recorded abnormally high brain activity in your temporal lobe from the tests they ran when you were brought in. Do you know what functions your temporal lobe serve?”

She turned and the look she sent his way would’ve brought a lesser man to his knees. Okay, he thought, wrong question.

“I ask because I think it could be the key in figuring out what happened to you over the last five years. It is the portion of your brain that deals with long-term memory, Sc--.” He managed to stop himself in time. “It also…well, I’m not a medical buff, but Dr. Francis said that a person’s personality and behavior functions come from the temporal lobe, as well. If someone were to have experimented on or damaged it somehow, those things could be altered.”

“How does this help me?”

Mulder sighed, longing for the pieces of the puzzle that Scully usually came up with at this point. He gazed into her eyes, silently pleading for her to show up. “Because the people who I believe took you have the technology to specifically do just that.”

“And that is…?”

“To have gone in, and altered your memories.”

She sat up straighter. “So, my whole life is…I-I don’t know what…What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

He shifted on the couch uncomfortably, not knowing how to answer her. The way her blonde curls fell over her brown leather jacket made him want to reach out and touch her, find out if she was real… or, if this was someone’s game. Was this truly happening?

And, then, it was like the air in the room shifted. 

“You really are Fox Mulder, aren’t you?” she laughed, watching the serious expression on his face as he looked her over. “Jayson did a damn good job, I’ll give him that much.” 

They sat there just looking at one another, measuring the other up. 

“So, do you think it was the supersoldiers, alien-human hybrids, or…?” She stopped when she noticed his surprised expression. “I told you, the show was basically my life for nine years. I paid attention. Those Golden Globes didn’t just jump into my lap.” She grinned and smoothed down her pants’ leg. 

“You won a Golden Globe?” He wanted to laugh, but the warning look she gave let him know she wasn’t seeing the humor. “I think,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I think that maybe we should talk more about it tomorrow. This can’t be easy to hear, and, if you are half as exhausted as I am, then we should probably get some rest.”

Picking up on her uneasiness, he walked into his bedroom, grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, and made his way back into the living room. “The bed’s all yours. I’m used to sleeping out here anyway.”

She watched as he made up the couch for himself. “No, I couldn’t—.”

“Scully.” They both flinched. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just…” He swallowed trying to force down the emotions that were rising. “Jesus! I don’t even know what to call you.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, resting a hand on his arm. “I know this has been really tough on you, too. If you care about her the way I think you do, this must be ripping you apart inside.”

He avoided her eyes, not trusting his self-control. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I, uh, I’ll just call you Kate.”

She picked up the bags of clothing and personal items they had gone shopping for earlier that day and stepped towards the bedroom. “For what it’s worth,” she began in a husky whisper, her hand resting against the door jamb. “I hope you get her back soon.”

It was too much and he felt the sobs climbing from his lungs into his throat, the tears he had tried desperately to hide now making their way down his face. “Thank you.”

Embarrassed of having caused him to cry, she smiled shyly. “Goodnight, Mulder.”

As the door to his room closed, he pulled the pillow to his face and sobbed on the couch until, finally, sleep came.

 

 

MULDER’S APARTMENT

December 2, 2007

5:48am

 

He opened the door to his bedroom, trying not disturb the sleeping form huddled under his queen-sized, navy down comforter. Her mouth was slightly open, as she rested peacefully. If the sun had been up, he would have stopped to drink her in, but instead all he could see was the outline of her body. 

Padding softly in the darkness to his bathroom, naturally on the opposite side of the room, Mulder tripped on something in the floor and landed face-down. Hard.

“Shit,” he gasped, having knocked the wind out of himself.

“Mulder?” came the groggy voice, as she propped herself up on both elbows to see him. “What’s wrong?”

Reaching back, he picked up the culprit sneaker and held it up for her to see. “Tripped.”

“Were you trying to sneak a peek?” she said with that strange, girly giggle again. “Because I’ve got to be honest with you, I don’t sleep nude,” she paused before finishing, “in the winter.”

He suddenly remembered what he was doing there in the first place. “Hold that thought,” mumbled Mulder, hurrying off to the bathroom to take care of a biological urge.

“That beer finally caught up with you, huh?”

He smiled up at his reflection in the mirror as he finished washing his hands. “Yeah, I guess my body can’t take it like it used to.” Reaching for his toothbrush, he made a mental note not to make anymore of his usual dumb jokes. 

When he came out of the bathroom, he found her curled on her side facing him with lamp turned on. “Hi.” She patted the spot on the bed beside her.

“Uh, Ka--.”

“I’m not gonna bite, Mulder. I just thought since we’re both up, we could chat for a little while. There’s a lot of questions that keep bothering me, and--.”

He took a step towards her, still unsure if this was the appropriate thing to do. Her wild, blonde hair fell in front of her face when she looked away from him. Suddenly, he realized, for what felt like the first time, how the freckles stood out on her skin. “And what?”

The sincerity, the genuine concern, sent her over the edge, her eyes finding his as a single tear made its way down her cheek. “I’m not used to being alone.”

The wood frame of the bed creaked under his weight as he stretched out next to her, trying not to invade her space. She propped up some pillows for them so that they could lean back against the headboard comfortably. They relaxed and took a deep breath, looking straight ahead to avoid eye contact.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she had forgone her new blue silk pajamas they had bought for one of his t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants (both of which were five times too big for her frame). He thought better of mentioning it. “You said something’s been bothering you?”

It had been a mild winter, by Edmonton standards, though the wind could be heard whistling against his poorly insulated window. The first big snow storm of the season building outside. She wanted to blame that for the chills that suddenly came over her.

“Kate,” he said, tentatively placing a finger under chin, forcing her to look at him for the first time since he’d crawled in bed with her. What she saw slowed her racing heart. She remembered this…well, not so much this, but she remembered letting her guard down with this man. It didn’t really matter to her at that point whether she was remembering Jayson or Mulder, she only knew that she trusted this man. She inhaled his scent deeply and let it out. 

“If your theory is true, then maybe talking about those missing pieces of…,” she struggled to finish the sentence and then laughed at the absurdity.

“What?” He was really starting to worry about her mental state at this point. Her laughter died down quickly, and she wiped a stray tear from her eye.

“No, no…It’s just…I was actually harboring a little doubt about whether your theory could possibly be right, when I remembered the show.”

He simply raised his brows and continued to stare at her in confusion. “I fell right back into the role…even after all these years.” She smiled at the nostalgic feeling it created. “I truly am…Scully.”

This time the bed shook as her hysterics reached his ears. He gaped at her, not knowing whether to join in or try to calm her down. “So you believe me?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. Turning to face him, she positioned herself so she was sitting on her knees and took both of his hands in hers. “I believe you. And, because I do, there’s something I would like to try.”

Her eyes became sparkling sapphires and he could hardly breathe, the air suddenly heavy and warm. “What?” Did his voice just crack? She picked up on his nervousness, but had no intention of lessening the intensity of the moment.

“Jog my memory.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> see part 1

His mouth opened to speak, but couldn’t seem to put together a coherent thought, and closed itself once more. He looked away, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. How in the world, he thought, could I possibly be thinking about her this way when she needs me to be focused and help her?

The wail of an ambulance siren outside broke the silence of the moment.

“You want me to do what?”

“Mulder, you say that my world, the actress ‘Kate,’ does not exist anywhere but in my head,” she held up a hand to interrupt him as he tried to interject. “No, it’s alright. But, I’m not a schizophrenic by any means, so in the last few, very long and emotional days and nights, I have had to come to terms with the fact that my family, my life, my existence as I thought I knew it, was a fake.”

“Kate.”

“Dammit, Mulder, let me finish for once!” Her eyes were ablaze and the look of utter shock on his face propelled her further. “It’s not easy to give up everyone in your life without a fight. The only way I can even go on without having a nervous breakdown is by getting my memory back.”

He sat upright, his feet getting tangled in the comforter as he attempted to tuck his legs under so that he could face her as she faced him. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, knowing the answer, but unsure if he could complete the task.

“Help me remember. I need to fill in those gaps.” He watched her eyes as she darted her eyes around the room, blinking away the new moisture before meeting his gaze again.

“Where should we start?”

This brought a smile to her face that made him grin in return, though he had no idea what he was grinning about. “You can start by calling me Scully. If that’s who I am, and I have been given no reason to believe otherwise, then I think hearing my name will help.”

He nodded. “Okay, Scully...” God, he thought, those smiles are going to be the death of me. “Tell me what you want to know.”

“When was the first time we…,” she gestured vaguely, with her hand, in the air. “Well, I think you know what I’m trying to say.”

“Yeah, I am pretty sure I do, but just so I don’t lose a limb, are you asking about after my trip the crop circles in England?”

Her jaw dropped. Suddenly, a thought popped into her head. “Do you think that my reality, the ‘Kate’ reality, could in any way have affected the other…or vice versa?”

That’s a strange thing to say, Mulder thought to himself. “Why do you ask?”

Shades of red crept across her neck and cheeks. “Well, because…in my reality, I wrote me waking up in your apartment with a ‘naked Mulder’ still in bed.”

His eyes grew huge, and she could see the hundred different comebacks building behind them. If this was the Mulder from the show, she thought, he would be leering at me. She began to have second-thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

Clearing his throat, he simply replied, “That’s the first time in my life that anyone has ever told me they had a fantasy about me.” 

“Okay, now I know you’re lying,” she joked, but his expression remained blank. “Anyway…what do you think it means?”

He shook his head, grimacing. “What do I think what means?”

She grabbed his hands, frustrated that he wasn’t running with her new theory. “That the ‘Kate’ reality and the ‘Scully’ reality might be connected! I mean…how else can you explain the strange coincidences between your world and mine? And if they are connected…?” Her eyes bugged wide, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God, what if…what if this isn’t real at all?”

“Scully…Kate…” Her remarks had thrown him so hard that he didn’t know what to say. The amazing thing, to him, was how quickly her brain came to such a paranormal conclusion. It had him spooked.

“Listen,” he started slowly, taking a deep breath as he removed one of his hands to set on her face – hoping it would calm her down enough to hear him. “I think that you have gone through more than anyone should have to in the last couple of days. And so your mind is trying to justify—“.

“You think I’m crazy,” she stated in a defeated tone.

“No,” he sighed, “Not crazy. But I do think I’ve been pushing you too hard, too soon. The trauma you’ve had to endure…”. He stopped when she refused to look up from her lap. When he reached under her chin to tilt her face up, she shuddered and moved away from his touch. The rejection ripped a hole through his chest. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He moved to stand, hoping she might reach for him, and when she didn’t he spoke again. “I understand if you need some time…Just let me know if you need anything.”

She was too deep inside herself to take note of his dejection. The man had been her only tie to the truth – in this reality or Kate’s. And now, after she had given up on her own beliefs and taken his word that the only life she knew was a fake, he was doubting her.

The world had suddenly become a cold, dark place; but most importantly, it was a place she dwelled in alone.

 

 

10:42PM

 

He looked out of the corner of his eye for what must have been the thousandth time since seven-thirty that morning, when she had asked to use his computer. 

Mulder knew how much he had destroyed between them that morning by telling her that she was showing signs of post-traumatic stress. She had closed herself off, her trust in him all but vanished. An hour later she had come out his bedroom with a look of determination. He nearly dropped his glass of orange juice when she approached him directly to ask permission. 

And now, over fifteen hours later, taking breaks only to go to the restroom or eat, she still sat there – typing. And whatever she had been doing had not been easy for her. Several times he’d heard her sniffle and other times gasp, jumping slightly in her seat – though, he had no idea why. He had been so strong all day, even when she walked away from the monitor (though she did turn it off each time), and did not give into his insane curiosity. 

Suddenly, she pushed away from the desk and stretched her arms above her head, cracking the vertebrae in her spine with a delighted sigh. The monster inside him swelled as she turned around and rewarded him with the first smile since she had told him her theory.

Her name caught in his throat, as he was still wary of calling her by either after his dismissal of her theory. She swung her legs back and forth, feet barely skimming the ground, and her happiness seemed to swell out from herself to fill the entire room.

What had she possibly been doing that could have changed her mood like that, he wondered.

“Mulder…I, uh,” she fidgeted with her hands, wondering how to begin. Looking at his face, expectant, brought back the patronizing way he had handled her admission to him that morning. But, if she couldn’t bring herself to open up to him now and look past what had occurred, then the day had been a waste. 

Once again, it was down to a matter of trust.

“I’m sure you’ve been wondering what I’ve been working on all day…” He nodded, hoping she would continue. “And, I also know what you think about my…theory—“

He opened up his mouth to interject, but she spoke over him. “And, so I’ve been getting out my Kate memories that deal with the X-Files.”

Mulder, for once, was at a complete loss for words. He had been expecting her to say that she had found some people or places she remembered from her other life, or maybe that she had found a place to go…to get away from him.

But to find out she had spent the entire time finding a way to prove that she wasn’t crazy, to herself – or to him, was enough to leave him tongue tied.

She smiled again, seeing the emotions clearly painted on his face. “I wanted to see for myself what all I could recall about Kate’s world. And I thought you might be interested, too. Even if my theory is bogus, it might jar my memories of Scully’s life…” She stopped, then, closing her eyes as a brief shudder rocked her.

“Scully?” He was reaching forward for her before he could stop himself; but she didn’t pull away. “What is it? Is it about something you wrote?”

She nodded before finally opening her eyes. The moisture was pooled there, threatening to spill over if she blinked. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“I heard you react to a few things during the day. Is that…?”

“Yes. No…I-I don’t know how to say this without sounding pathetic,” she said, her laugh coming out more like a sob.

“It’s okay, Scully. You can tell me.”

And as she locked eyes with him, she was reminded again of her devastation that morning. The longing to trust him – the intense hunger to have that intimate connection – passed through her like an electric shock.

“I realized that, if I am who you believe me to be—after dredging up old memories and remembering the show—then,” she knew she was beginning to ramble from nervousness, so she finally just blurted, “Mulder, I don’t know if I can continue to live the way she did…Her life terrifies me!”

She could see her words processing in his brain, watched as one body part after another began to express the utter devastation he felt because of them. He shuddered, eyes closing as he coiled inward, pulling away from her to seek shelter in the leather of his sofa.

“Mulder?” she whispered, realizing suddenly the weight her previous statement held: his guilt – built over a period of fifteen years over the trauma his presence had created in her life – had just been validated by the one person who could do the most damage with it. “Oh God! I’m sorry…”

He shook his head violently, his face so pale that she assumed he was about to either get sick or pass out. “Stop! You shouldn’t be sorry…it’s not your fault.”

“No, Mulder, I need to finish. I didn’t mean…that came out wrong.”

A bitter laugh broke free and he looked at her with dead eyes. “It sounded pretty right to me.”

“Dammit, Mulder, don’t do that!”

“Do what?”

“That self-deprecating bullshit! I, of all people, should have known better than to say that to you.” She sighed, determined to start over. “Her life – the existence I don’t recall first-hand,” she corrected upon seeing him wince, “terrifies me because I don’t possess the strength she did. Her character, the way she was able to deal with the most outrageous circumstances with poise and dignity…. Without those memories – those personal life experiences – how could I expect to survive?"

"But that's just it, Scully!" He sat up, suddenly reanimated. "Don't you understand that what you've been doing all day proves that you do possess that strength? You are a born problem-solver. This morning, instead of giving up, you set out to find a way to prove to yourself and to me that Kate's memories could be the key to your memory loss. You're a fighter, Scully. It's inborn. And no one, not the best brain-wipe in the world, could take that away."

She sat there, silently, going over what he had said. But the lack of action was too much for Mulder and he quickly moved to pull a chair from the kitchen table, setting it beside hers. 

"What are you doing?"

"Pulling up your file," he replied, manipulating the mouse until he had what he needed. He quickly clicked on the print button and turned to face her. "I was deadly wrong this morning, Scully, and I'm sorry. If you're willing, I want to read these with you and see what we can find. Are you okay with that?"

She smiled and dropped her head, her hair shielding her face from his eyes.

"Scully?"

"It's okay. I just...I remember this part."

The jagged hole that had formed when she was ripped from his life five years before, mended just the tiniest bit, and he smiled back. "Well then, I'd say now's the best time to start."


End file.
